Late in the afternoon of a day in the early part of last December I had ridden out from our lines in Ladysmith towards a certain position usually occupied by a Boer outpost, trusting by my going out deliberately and unarmed to get one of the men there to have a talk, just as one of the Lancers had a few days previously. For some time we had been on short rations of "copy" as well as food. I rode along the edge of an empty spruit, into the bed of which my spurs would have propelled my horse in the unlikely event of a shot being my first greeting.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13403 | 2020-01-21 05:47:00 | 85.68 | 97% |
| 7923 | 2018-08-26 08:32:07 | 90.25 | 98% |
| 4868 | 2018-05-27 19:27:10 | 86.74 | 97% |
| 2361 | 2018-04-03 05:25:26 | 90.90 | 99% |